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Sometimes I just let my mind run wild. The creative writing class I am currently enrolled in seemed like a great excuse to craft a story from one of my favorite album covers, Benediction's Transcend the Rubicon. No doubt my professor will think I am totally nuts when he reads my story, but I am fairly happy with the final product that oozes imagery and hopefully lands me good marks. On second thought, he is a pretty enthusiastic guy about anything imaginative, so this will likely be right up his alley. In any case, let your mind wander like I did, and enjoy the concoction that is my brain.
Following a river, I hiked through the murky, hazy depths of the lost city assigned as an exploration site for my current archeology project. The area looked somewhat familiar with its sinister, idolized structures looming over each step I took, but I pressed onward, despite the fact that I was uncertain of where I was going. Glancing at my map, my path would supposedly twist, cross, and turn around a plethora of buildings--as a bridge was my final destination--but the labyrinth-like trail grew more and more confusing the further I made my way into the forgotten metropolis.
After being lost for minutes that seemed like hours, an aging, stone-covered cathedral stood to my left and a dilapidated, grey, column-adorned structure emerged immediately to the right. I pondered what the Ionic columns might have symbolized—after all, I was an archaeologist and that was my job. Was the building once a bustling center for governmental functions where important figures dressed in their black suits? Were exquisite gold timepieces that reeked of “I have made it” tucked inside their pockets? Indeed, I was not sure, but this ancient establishment was surely a hub for early politics and the heart of society.
The cathedral, on the other hand, gave me a different impression because the building was similar in stature to any other primordial place of worship, albeit being much more ominous and primitive feeling. Gazing at it intently, I realized the cathedral was older than the surrounding structures because it lacked traditional multi-colored stain glass windows, with dark, soulless holes in their place. Any attempt at a windowpane was long gone: the remnants were swept away by the weathering sands of time and the corrosion from countless environmental disasters that even the gloomy overcast day threatened to ruin my quest with. Curiously enough, the finely eroded top had fallen off after years of abuse by the weather and lay silently in the dirt behind the cathedral. I examined it closely, finding intricately engraved patterns—some in the shape of spirals and others caricatures in comparison—adorning the tip. But I could not find a connection to the rest of the city, so I moved on, assuming the place of worship was many years the capital’s senior.
As I had been traveling for a several hours, starting at the heavily forested mountains just outside the once thriving civilization, I wondered if I was ever going to reach my objective. Even though I had not personally seen the bridge, it seemed like a distant memory and one I would never fully be able to picture, despite the help of my trusty, wrinkled, and journey-battered map. If I ever arrived at the overpass above the river, the bridge would lead me to my final destination where a building took form as an antiquated divinity the society once worshipped. But I remained confused: the city appeared advanced in so many ways, with the black suits, elegant gold pocket watches, and advanced political techniques. Yet the notion of Polytheism and archaic buildings echoed times of yore, particularly the cathedral, which was even more antediluvian than its column-assembled peers. Coming to a hasty conclusion, I surmised the society that once took up residence in this decaying and fascinating wasteland was more recent than I previously thought. Maybe skilled craftsmen renovated the buildings and fitted them to their culture’s current needs? I could not be sure, but I was vaguely reminded of a city back home called Detroit, Michigan and the wonderful art-deco architecture that continues to rot away endlessly, unused, and neglected. It is quite sad, really.